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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25848934">Aching for the Cure</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarmeadow/pseuds/stellarmeadow'>stellarmeadow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>9-1-1 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Buck's really good with his hands, Eddie totally minds the migraine a lot less if it gets Buck's hands on him, Headaches &amp; Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:35:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>871</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25848934</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarmeadow/pseuds/stellarmeadow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The key in the front door was like a grinder in his ear before the door opened and closed, the sound of paper bags rustling and heavy footsteps echoing in Eddie’s head. </p><p>“Hey, Eddie,” Buck called, “what’s’—”</p><p>“Shhhhh!” Eddie ducked deeper under the cover like it would block out the sounds. </p><p>The paper made a final rustle before Buck’s footsteps, quieter this time, closer. “Headache?” Buck whispered. </p><p>“Migraine,” Eddie managed to get out.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>376</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Aching for the Cure</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A few days ago I was complaining I couldn't think what to write, and a couple of lovely people gave me some prompts, and this one wouldn't leave me (probably because I'm having daily migraines...). </p><p>Thanks to hideeho for the prompt!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eddie sunk into the couch pillow, pulling a blanket over his head. He didn’t know who’d given the birds outside his window a megaphone, but he’d like to have a word or two with them.</p><p>A quiet word, one that he would have holding his head and trying not to cry from pain, but a word.</p><p>The key in the front door was like a grinder in his ear before the door opened and closed, the sound of paper bags rustling and heavy footsteps echoing in Eddie’s head. </p><p>“Hey, Eddie,” Buck called, “what’s’—”</p><p>“Shhhhh!” Eddie ducked deeper under the cover like it would block out the sounds. </p><p>The paper made a final rustle before Buck’s footsteps, quieter this time, came closer. “Headache?” Buck whispered. </p><p>“Migraine,” Eddie managed to get out. Though that word didn’t really begin to describe the pain. He’d had people tell him ‘Oh, just take some Excedrin’ or ask ‘have you tried aspirin/advil/aleve/every home remedy ever invented?’</p><p>Yeah, he’d suffered enough that he’d tried everything, thanks. And if they thought any of that would kick it, then they didn’t know what pain was.</p><p>Buck’s hand landed on Eddie’s shoulder, warm and comforting, even through the blanket. “Come on,” he whispered.</p><p>Eddie shook his head, then groaned at the nausea that created. </p><p>“Hey, trust me.” Buck’s voice was just soft enough to not make the headache worse. “This will help.”</p><p>Eddie’s head told him not to move, but right now he trusted Buck more. </p><p>At least Buck wasn’t actively making him want to die.</p><p>He got up, closing his eyes as the blanket fell off him. Buck was there, arm around Eddie’s back, hands on each of his biceps, guiding him down the hall until Eddie was on his own bed. </p><p>It was cooler there, which was nice. And it was more removed from the road noise out front, and a little darker. </p><p>“Thanks,” Eddie muttered, then winced at his own voice. </p><p>“I’ll be right back.” </p><p>Eddie rolled onto his back on the window side of the bed, where it was actually a little darker, and the contact with the pillow didn’t hurt his head quite as bad. Which was kind of like saying it felt better when you took the nail out of your hand after you hammered it in, but still, Buck had been right. This was better than the couch. </p><p>Buck’s footsteps were muffled, and Eddie smiled a little, imagining Buck carefully toeing his shoes off to make less noise.</p><p>“Can you sit up?” Buck whispered, the bed beside Eddie dipping gently as Buck sat down. . </p><p>He really didn’t want to, but Buck had said to trust him, so Eddie sat up, wincing at the lighting-sharp jolt of pain that pierced through his head into his spine. </p><p>Buck took Eddie’s hand and opened it up, placing pills in his palm. “I’m assuming you didn’t take anything,” Buck said, like he knew Eddie. </p><p>Which…yeah.</p><p>“Take those,” Buck said, placing a cool bottle in Eddie’s other hand. Water, Eddie saw, as he squinted his eyes open just enough to see to take the pills. He chased them down with the water, eyes already closed again.</p><p>“Drink all of it,” Buck said, his voice that same low whisper that Eddie’s head wasn’t actively hating. “It’ll help.” </p><p>Eddie did as he was told, handing the bottle back to Buck before lying down again. Buck moved closer, the heat of his leg pressed against Eddie’s side as Buck’s fingertips touched the sides of Eddie’s head lightly, a semi-circle of barely-there pressure around the back of Eddie’s ear. </p><p>“Tell me if this hurts too much,” Buck said, fingers pressing gently but firmly into Eddie’s scalp. </p><p>He made his way slowly to the back and top of Eddie’s head, long fingers splayed through Eddie’s hair, easing the migraine just enough that Eddie could finally get out a low, “Please don’t ever stop doing that.” </p><p>The breath from Buck’s soft chuckle drifted over Eddie’s lips. His tongue slipped out before he could think, but he couldn’t taste Buck there, couldn’t satisfy that itch that always lay just beneath his skin to know exactly what Buck tasted like. </p><p>Apparently half the girls in LA were allowed that, but not Eddie. </p><p>The migraine was slowly retreating under Buck’s hands, leaving the inevitable post-migraine hangover in its place. Which was a relief, but also required at least a couple hours of sleep before Eddie could be a functioning human being again. </p><p>With Chris at camp, and therefore not able to give Buck something to do, Buck would probably be gone before Eddie woke up.</p><p>“S’better,” Eddie said, unable to open his eyes as sleep pulled at them too tightly. “You’re way too good at that,” he muttered. </p><p>There was that soft chuckle again, cheating Eddie of his taste once more. “Yeah, this guy I dated in college got horrible migraines. That always helped.”</p><p>Sleep was stronger than even Eddie’s jealousy at the idea of Buck with anyone other than him. Even if he had no claim on Buck, it didn’t seem to matter. </p><p>“Go to sleep, Eddie.” </p><p>As Eddie followed that order, he could swear he felt lips press softly to his forehead. </p><p>---</p>
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